Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Asura God of War

“Hmph! How dare they use me as a shield? Do they really think I’m so easy to manipulate?”
“How dare they assign me a mission at the last moment, forcing me to offend all four great families at once?”
“If they had talked to me about it beforehand, it’s not like I would have refused. But no, they had to act first and inform me later!”
“In the competition, I will give it my all!”
“But… I have to give those two old foxes a good scare first!”

At that moment, Gu Xiaopang was inwardly scoffing again and again. The more he thought of the Purple Gold Emperor and Song Wuji’s repeated schemes, the more disgruntled and utterly vexed he became.
Yes, indeed, he needed an outlet!

“The competition begins!”
With the referee’s shout, sweat poured down the foreheads and palms of the other thirty-odd contestants from Nanyan Commandery.
On the other side, the thirty-some participants from Xihu Commandery glared with blazing fury, as if on their wedding night, only to have someone else take their place in the bridal chamber. All at once, they raised their weapons and charged ferociously at Nanyan Commandery.
More precisely, they all targeted Gu Xiaopang, who had become the focus of everyone’s ire.

A chorus of roars, shouts, and the clash of weapons erupted. Seeing that the other commanderies had chosen to stand by and watch, Gu Xiaopang’s figure flashed at lightning speed, narrowly dodging the furious onslaught from dozens of Xihu warriors. His hands moved in a blur; countless red and gold dragons—and dragons of other hues—shot forth, bombarding the three hundred participants from the nine other commanderies with terrifying force.

The spectators were stunned into silence. On the platform, as the various spirit dragons exploded ceaselessly, hundreds from the nine commanderies were wounded or crippled, weapons shattering with relentless clangor.
Especially the nearest Xihu Commandery, singled out for special attention by Gu Xiaopang—of their formidable thirty-plus fighters, more than half were incapacitated almost instantly.

Earlier, Song Wuji had closed his eyes in despair, unable to bear watching. Now, he snapped them open in shock, mouth agape, just like the thousands of others watching, speechless at the carnage unfolding.

The stage was a maelstrom—fiery infernos devoured camps, angry waves battered cities, golden light severed blades, green wood sprouted anew, and stone and earth swept across the field.
And there was more: Gu Xiaopang’s form flickered incessantly, downing spirit and energy-restoring pills by the handful. Dragons of every color roared from his hands, bombarding the hundreds of opponents in a relentless barrage.
While the hundreds struggled to defend themselves, those still able to fight launched fierce counterattacks at Gu Xiaopang as he darted through their ranks.
Cries of pain and curses echoed across the field.
“Damn it! Why are you hitting me?”
“Hey! That guy from Dark Court Commandery, if you can’t hit him, don’t slash at me!”

The battlefield was utter chaos.
Gu Xiaopang continued his bombardment, enduring dozens of blows with his powerful physique, his flesh torn and blood streaming.
Meanwhile, the hundreds from the nine commanderies, in their rage, lashed out at Gu Xiaopang, often hitting their own allies—whether by accident or design. Those who were struck by their own comrades quickly retaliated, turning the melee into a free-for-all.

What was this?!

In previous years, the imperial celebration had always proceeded with tight order. This time, Gu Xiaopang had utterly derailed it!
“Damn! That’s more like it!”
“To hell with these one-on-one duels!”
“This is how a true competition should be!”
“Thrilling! Absolutely thrilling!”
“That kid with the Five Elements! Well done! I’m rooting for you!”
“Keep going! Don’t hold back! Flatten them all!”
The tens of thousands of spectators, accustomed to the predictable routines of past years and somewhat jaded, were now on their feet, shouting, waving fists, and cheering in sheer excitement.

Onstage, the other thirty-some disciples from Nanyan Commandery were frozen in disbelief, staring at Senior Gu, who was single-handedly fighting a host of enemies.
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know!”
“The governor said we should follow Senior Gu’s orders.”
“But he hasn’t told us to join in.”
“Yeah, lucky for us. Otherwise…”

Below the stage, Song Wuji’s tension melted away, replaced by wild enthusiasm as he joined the crowd in cheering.
On the high platform, Emperor Zi Qiankun, who had thought his schemes were doomed to fail, now trembled with excitement, as if discovering a new world ripe for conquest.
The assembled ministers, ready to critique and comment, were left dumbfounded, unable to find words or opinions to offer.

“Gu Xiaopang, when did he become this powerful?”
“Are you sure that’s the same Gu Xiaopang from Uncle Five’s family?”
“Hey! Ouyang Shuai, why did you pinch me?”
“Oh, sorry! I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming!”

“Everyone, look at me! I am Ouyang Shuai, the most handsome man on earth, undefeated everywhere…
“That dragon-spewing guy onstage is my little brother, Gu Changqing!”
“How about that? My little brother Gu Xiaopang is a one-man army!”
“Though he’s still a tiny bit behind his big brother here, he’s not bad at all! Hahaha!”

A thousand eyes rolled at the incorrigible narcissist, then turned eagerly back to the increasingly fierce battle on stage.
Now, less than half the disciples from the nine commanderies remained standing, all battered and bloodied. Eyes red with rage, they threw their most powerful attacks at the ever-elusive Gu Xiaopang.
Gu Xiaopang himself was covered in wounds, gulping down more pills before launching another wild barrage of dragons, using fallen disciples as shields as he dodged and weaved through the onslaught.

Another quarter of an hour passed.
Now, of the nine commanderies, only a tenth of their fighters could still attack. Those who remained were the elite, their bodies battered but their spirits unbroken.
Gu Xiaopang realized his dragon barrages were losing effectiveness; his strength and energy were almost spent. He drew his rhino horn artifact, attacking and parrying with both hands, though his movements grew steadily slower.

A sudden lapse in defense left him wide open. Two devastating attacks struck his chest, breaking several ribs and launching him several meters back.
Once again, the spectators were struck dumb as Gu Xiaopang, blood pouring from his mouth, forced himself upright. Like a war god drenched in blood, he endured the agony as the twenty-odd survivors from the nine commanderies charged at him. Planting his feet, he used the momentum to crash straight out of the melee.

“Damn it! You want my life?!”
“All disciples of Nanyan Commandery, hear my command!”
“Step forward—all of you! Take them down for me!”

Staggering back to his own side, Gu Xiaopang barked out his orders before collapsing to the ground.
The thirty-some Nanyan disciples, suddenly filled with fighting spirit, howled as they charged at the remaining twenty or so enemies.

They had overwhelming numbers.
They had overwhelming stamina.
They had overwhelming energy.
Their momentum was unstoppable.

The battle became utterly one-sided.
The Nanyan warriors, driven by years of suppressed resentment, finally had their chance for vengeance—and they did not hold back.
Weapons shattered, blood flowed, bones broke, wails and cries filled the air.
In the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the brutal clash of one commandery against nine reached its bloody conclusion.

On the stage, the Nanyan disciples erupted in triumphant celebration, gathering around Gu Xiaopang in jubilation.
Below, Governor Song Wuji, trembling all over, was silent for several moments before bursting into wild laughter.
The governors of the other commanderies, who had previously mocked and sneered, now wore ashen faces and were silent.
On the high platform, Emperor Zi Qiankun struggled to contain his excitement, the corners of his mouth twitching.
All around, tens of thousands of spectators cheered and shouted, their voices ringing out in joy.
Amidst all eyes, Gu Xiaopang sat cross-legged, meditating.

“The winner of this group battle is Nanyan Com—”
“Look! Look at him!”

The official from the Ministry of Rites, about to announce this historic victory, was interrupted by a chorus of cries from the crowd.
Following their gazes, he looked back at Gu Xiaopang, who sat bloodied and battered, but now a faint golden light began to emerge from his body. With each change of his hand seals, the golden glow thickened, until his entire being was enveloped in a radiant, weighty aura.

“What’s happening?”
“It looks like his physical body has broken through.”
“At that intensity, his body’s cultivation must be at an impressive level!”
“He’s really a madman, that one.”